AnnaSophia
by belicove
Summary: All flair from AnnaSophia Larkin was now flushed away, diminished. The odds had gone against her, however unlikely it seemed. Her face was etched with a sullen disgust, for the District 4 princess had already accepted her death.
1. Prologue: Dylan

_| P r o l o g u e |_

dylan

Just for a moment, the only sounds that could be heard in the square of District 4 were the faint whistling of the wind and the heels of Roxanne Burke click-clacking across the stage as she walked steadily over to the glass globe containing thousands of slips of paper. The bitter attitude of the citizens lingered in the air, for the Reaping of the 59th Annual Hunger Games had just begun.

Worried families from the sidelines clutched onto each other, regardless if they even knew one another, and hoped that the odds would be in _their_ favor, just as they did every year. Sometimes they were, but as we all know, two families had to give into the high demands. The rich were safe. The poorer you were, the more cautious you became.

She had no reason to worry, no reason to fear entering the dreaded stadium constructed by the Capitol and for their entertainment. Still, her face remained completely still, not moving and portraying a cross between fear and disgust. Her fists clenched in a ball at her sides and the camera panned in on her face. She knew they were there. She knew all districts of Panem would gain at least a couple clear seconds to take in her heart shape face, her unnaturally green eyes, her blond hair pulled into a complex bun, perched on the top of her head. She had no reason to worry, no reason to fear…

Roxanne's hands swirled around the glass globe and dived in to retrieve one unlucky name. She held it between her ridiculously polished blue nails – which matched the wig of curls on her head – and walked back center stage, standing before the microphone to read the small, scripted handwriting to District 4.

"AnnaSophia Larkin," Roxanne read, clear as day.

The cameras panned back in on her face, the face of the girl I had been eyeing earlier. Every child, every adult, every being in the square that day, remained silent and waited for the girl tribute of District 4 to step from the crowd and take her place on the stage with Roxanne Burke. Every child, every adult, every being in the square that day knew the name 'AnnaSophia Larkin,' for it was familiar in all of their mouths, but she still did not emerge from the crowd.

I sat there, stunned. How could it be? The odds were completely in her favor. The seconds ticked away and Roxanne stood patiently on the stage, her mock smile a little too cheery, her delight made a little too known. The camera swooped over the vast crowd of District 4, then went back to the same girl, whose eyes were now down-casted as she massaged her knuckles. Beside her, another girl around her age gripped her arm and whispered something in her ear, proceeded by her nudging the Tribute forward and the crowd parted so she make her way to the stage. The Tribute, the one with the blond hair and green eyes, had her arms dropped limply to her sides as she made her way forward, her face still etched into a sullen disgust.

She walked up onto the stage and towards Roxanne, who now pondered over her name and said into the microphone, "Larkin… I bet you're one of the mayor's daughters." Still, her mock smile remained.

All flair from AnnaSophia Larkin, daughter of District 4's mayor, was now flushed away, diminished. Her intricate blouse now seemed lifeless, those skinny, maroon corduroy's seemed to drag along wherever she placed her feet. Her face, too, had been purged of any color, leaving a pasty, pale complexion.

It was as if she had already accepted her death.


	2. To Where you Are

_| T o W h e r e Y o u A r e |_

chapter i

Shock. It's the one and only sign that lets me know that I haven't passed out from a lack of breathing. It incased my body and locked my feet in place. I hardly felt Tiger Lily push me forward and I hardly felt myself giving into her commands and following the Peacekeepers up to the stage where Roxanne waited. Her smile was far too happy, far too jocular, given the circumstances. The queezing in my stomach only grew stronger.

I massaged my knuckles, but every part of my being had gone numb. I sat tensely as the crowd of District 4 clapped for my "honor and bravery in representing District 4 in the 59th Annual Hunger Games," despising every one of them. While half of the crowd cheered just to go along with the crowd, it still left a bitter taste in my mouth, for death shouldn't be treated as a reward and cause a celebration. The other half of District 4 was clapping because it meant that their child had, once again, escaped another Reaping, making feel even more sullen.

And I barely heard Roxanne's five inch heels parade to the other side of the stage. Her hand swooped around the top of the glass globe, much like a hawk searching for its prey, and it dived in for one, and only one, slip of paper.

"Ashton Draycott," Roxanne recited, but it came out as nothing but a string of blurs and rings in my ears, barely audible under excess noise. But I knew that name; I knew it far too well. I raised my down-casted eyes to the tall, lean figure of Ashton Draycott, making his way up to the stage with a neutral expression. Was he scared? Hard to say, but probably not. Boys like him thrived on adrenaline, on danger. But still, it was hard to tell.

We were required to shake hands, the crowd clapped one last time, and then we were ushered – or more like shoved – from the stage to the Justice building, and into separate chambers were we would await saying goodbye to friends and family. I paced around the room, eyeing the bookshelves, the intricate pattern on the ceiling, trying to put thoughts that didn't have to do with the present into my mind. Many times had I been in the Justice building, but never into the chambers, for they were reserved for the Tributes and only the Tributes.

My father would surely be coming to see me any minute, and that only left me with a couple moments to devise a speech. What could I say to the man? Don't worry, you'll be fine without me? That was the nice way of putting it.

As if on cue, the door was opened and Peacekeepers said, "Take your time, sir."

I turned my back from the door and scowled; if it was any other person, they would have growled a gruff, "Three minutes," and slammed the door behind him.

There was a long, awkward pause, and I knew my father was racking his brains to find something to say to his daughter who, by the looks of it, probably wouldn't be coming out of the arena. Sure, I was already unnaturally small, but my bones were unnaturally thin which, sure, provided speed, but not much strength.

"I'm sorry this happened." His voice came out in barely a whisper, but I knew it was all he couple manage at the present time.

"Don't be," I responded, turning from the open window overlooking the town square to my father, an aging man that shared my green eyes and blond colored hair. "It's not your fault this happened."

He started forward, slowly at first, but then embraced me in his wide arms, his peppermint-tinted breath exhaling on my neck, which had always annoyed me, but I didn't say anything.

"Don't worry about me," I said, rubbing his back. "It's you you'll have to look out for."

"But I'm not the one entering at arena," he protested.

"But if I don't come back, you can't leave the girls to fend for themselves. They need you," I pursued.

He insisted, "You'll be coming back, AnnaSophia."

I wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that even though I was part of the Career Tributes, I was tiny and didn't have much aptitude for survival without the aid of others. But again, I didn't say anything, but merely nodded. "Then when I'm gone," I continued, "you have to watch out for them."

He nodded solemnly. "It's just whenever I think of the Games, I remember her mother and how she gave her life to them – "

I shook my head and silenced him, for I didn't want to think about my long-dead mother in our last moments together.

"Are Violet and Lavona going to come by?" I inquired.

"Of course, but I figured you would want some time alone with them."

I nodded. "Thank you."

My father embraced me one last time and when we broke away, he opened my hand and placed a pendant in it, enclosing my fingers around it. "It's your token," he said. "I already ran it by the Peacekeepers, and they think you'll be eligible to use it, but once you're in the Capitol it'll have to be approved again."

He kissed the top of my hand and parted for the door, only turning back one more time as a melancholy expression passed over his face. He ducked his face from my view, but I had already his churlish look. Even if he wanted to believe, he knew there was a good chance I wouldn't be coming back.

Saying goodbye to my two younger sisters was heart breaking, but kept the tears from the public eye, for if Violet and Lavona saw my despair, they would truly see there was no chance I would be making it back. Hope would be lost, deception would be spared.

Soon after, the Peacekeepers came back into the chamber and rushed me out and into a car that would take me to District 4's train station. People were paved all along the sides of the roads, cheering and waving to their newest Tributes. While it made me feel sick with a throbbing headache, Ashton was enjoying the scene and even smiling and waving to the crowd, which pursued them even further.

"Must you do that?" I demanded, rubbing my fingers to my temples when the screaming and jeering was becoming deafening.

"Do what?" he sneered.

"You're only influencing them to continue."

He didn't bother responding to me, but rater to the crowd. I wasn't surprised.

Roxanne took a separate cab to the station, but she was already there, waiting under a sea blue umbrella when we arrived, for an outbreak of a light drizzle began the moment we stepped out of our car. Every way I looked, a camera flashed, their owners screaming at us to smile. I dodged their gaze and hurried after Roxanne and Ashton into the long train, consisting of many compartments.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" Roxanne said once we were out of the rain and into the shelter of a Capitol transporter. "I think things are shaping out to be a great Games this year!"

I turned away and stared out the window as the train departed from the station and we were launched around two hundred miles per hour towards the Capitol. As much as I want to like Roxanne and get along with her, I couldn't bring myself to do it. She was just like the citizens of the Capitol, who dominate in power over the rest of us and summon us forth to take part in their, and only their, games.

"Can you show me to my cabin?" I asked gruffly, not wishing to be in the room with either of them for much longer. Roxanne looked slightly taken back at my surliness, but nevertheless, she led me to another compartment, down the hall, and to a separate room.

"I hope it's to your liking," she said softly before closing the door behind me, leaving me all by myself with no other company but myself.

The room was, in all honesty, beautiful, but it was expected, seeing that was made for the Capitol and their personal uses. The walls, flushed in a deep red, made the shape of a pentagon and the carpet was a cremey white. The bed was draped in plush comforters and pillows and laid against an angled wall. A crystal chandelier shed golden light into the room and there a couple circular windows against the far wall. I pushed aside the curtains, but due to a lack of sunlight and the fact that we now skimming through a patch of greenery, no extra light was provided. I stared longingly out the window as I left behind the ruins of my life in District 4.


	3. Know Thy Enemy

_| K n o w T h y E n e m y |_

chapter ii

Sometimes I can't help but hate myself. I'm bitter, keep to myself, and have many snarky remarks. Others follow my lead because of my last name, because of the family I was born to, and I can count on one hand – disregarding my family – the people who genuinely like me.

It was probably going to be the same scenario in the arena. Being from a Career district, the Tributes from one and two would want to team up with me and become allies to defeat the weaker contenders. But being my churlish self, I wouldn't want to work with anybody, let alone them, unless it came down to life and death. It could well go against me, but trust isn't a concept that comes easily.

I remained in my Reaping clothes the rest of the day and stayed in my temporary room until there was a knock on the door and Roxanne summoned me for dinner. The dining hall, adjacent to the living quarters, was painted in the same shade of red as my room. The table was made of fine mahogany, the floor was black wood, and an intricate rug was placed between the two. Ashton was already seated at the table while Roxanne was bustling around the room.

I sat across from Ashton and turned towards Roxanne. "So where are our mentors, exactly?"

Roxanne joined us at the table and tucked the perfectly white napkin into her collar. I wrinkled my nose. "I called them out just a couple minutes ago. I'm sure they'll have to clean up a little bit before they join us, but fill free to start."

With the ending syllable of her speech, two men and two women came from another compartment, both hands weighing a silver platter of different foods. A girl sat down her plates and revealed pheasant with a balsamic reduction and a cheese soufflé while a man set down caramelized pears and a roasted duck with a raspberry glaze. More plates followed, and when everything was served, the waiters left the room silently.

_Avoxes_, I thought silently. I always had pitied and felt conscious around them, but I knew my sympathy wasn't something I could openly share.

Roxanne began passing the plates around, starting with the caramelized pears and then the stuffed choux puffs. Ashton began to pile at least a bit of every dish onto his plate and dug in without further instruction. I, on the other hand, tenderly took a little bit of the pears and a couple deviled eggs onto my plate and left it at that.

Roxanne eyed the little bit of food I decided to take and inquired, "That's all?"

"Yes," I stated plainly. "I'm actually a vegetarian and, as of now, not very hungry."

"You're a vegetarian?" she repeated. "How do you not starve?"

Another reason why I found it so hard to like Roxanne: she always stated her questions so bluntly.

"She's the mayor's daughter," Ashton explained, "so she can afford to do such a thing."

I shot him a glare and Roxanne cleared her throat. "Well, I can always have the waiters bring something else out for you."

She began to clap her hands to summon the Avoxes, but I interjected, "No, I'm Ok. Really."

"That plan definitely isn't going to last in the arena," Ashton mumbled, though he deliberately wanted me to hear.

"I know," I growled flatly, returning to my plate in silence.

We waited about five more minutes before the door of the compartment in front of the one we were in opened and two people, a man and a woman, stepped into the dining quarters. The woman, whom appeared to be middle age, had chestnut brown hair with high curls and turquoise eyes. She was tall and lanky with a circular face and a naturally bright smile. The man, too, was in his mid-thirties with black, spiky hair and a peachy complexion. He was about the same height as the woman, but slightly more muscular. Both took a seat side-by-side across from me and Roxanne.

"So you two must be the two lucky enough to represent District 4 in the beloved Hunger Games," the man mentor began.

I bit back a smile, for I didn't know if he was being serious or sarcastic.

"I'm Lachlan," he continued, "and this is Lisette." He gestured to the woman next to him.

"I'm Ashton Draycott," Ashton piped up.

"AnnaSophia," I introduced next.

Lachlan and Lisette both owned homes in the Victors' Village, but a couple times had I seen them wandering around the wealthy town of District 4, in the gardens, the local shops. From what I had observed, the two seemed to be good friends.

"So I suppose we should go over a couple things before we get to the Capitol," Lisette mentioned. "When we first arrive tomorrow, you'll be assigned to a stylist who will help you prepare for the opening ceremonies, but I'm sure you knew this already."

Lachlan continued, "The following day you will begin preparing for the Games in the Training Center. They'll have a myriad of stations, everything from survival skills to how to defend yourself. On the third day of your training, you'll have your private session with the Gamemakers. They'll rate you on your skills from one to twelve."

"And in between you'll be having sessions with me regarding your interviews with Caesar Flickerman," Roxanne said.

"But," Lisette continued, her voice now very serious, "we should probably decide this before tomorrow. Do you two want to train together or separately?"

"Separately," Ashton and I said in unison, instantaneously.

"Well, that was simple," Lachlan commented. "Now, tomorrow you are to do as your stylist says. The Tribute's Parade is the start of the Games, as it is a good time to start lining up your sponsors. This year you'll be working with Bertha Averill and Lawrence Daaé. They won't steer you wrong."

"What about allies?" Ashton queried. "What advice would you give about choosing allies."

Lachlan leaned back in his chair and knitted his hands behind his head. "Well, being from a Career district, one may think that it is _expected_ of you to pair up with the Tributes from one and two. While you may do that if you please, I want to tell you this: scope out all the other contestants; you may be surprised how valuable some of them may be."

"And for those of us who don't want allies?" I challenged.

Silence filled the room. Roxanne stopped chewing her steamed lobster. Lachlan put his folded hands on the table and leaned closer, eyeing me up and down, scoping out my features, any emotion on my face. Eventually, he cracked and smile and chuckled, "I like her."

Lisette nodded in agreement. "Yes, she's just like you. I wouldn't suggest doing away with the idea of an ally completely before you see who you're up against, but if you don't see anybody special in training, by all means, fend for yourself." She beamed a genuine smile.

Ashton snorted. "Good luck with that."

My fork clattered on the porcelain plate in front of me. "Do you have _anything_ nice to say?" I demanded. After my outburst, he ate the rest of his meal in silence.

Despite the plush interior of my room, falling to sleep was much easier said than done. After dinner, Roxanne, Lachlan, Lisette, Ashton, and I went over to the living quarters and watched the recap of the Reaping, watched eleven different versions of Roxanne calling the names of boys and girls from ages twelve to eighteen to the stage in their district's town square. Some occasionally volunteered for those reaped, but only in Districts one and two. People like them flung themselves at death, but their sentence was much more flexible. They were power hungry; they had the resources and skills to succeed in the arena.

Re-watching the Reaping only set me up for an endless night and a bellicose sleep. After tossing and turning under the comforter, I stood up and began to pace around the room. A shiver ran up my spine, my feet fought against the cold floor; the nightgowns provided were elegant and beautiful, but didn't provide much warmth. After rummaging around in the dresser, I pulled out a black asymmetric zip jacket with a draped neck and put it on around me, climbing back under the covers and attempting to fall asleep. For a while I dazed on and off, but my nerves got the best of me and I began to pace the room again. Above me, a sun roof revealed a night sky full of constellations and an occasional falling star. I eyed it suspiciously, climbing onto my bed to open it. I hoisted myself up, and with the little muscle I had, was able to pull myself to a sitting position on the roof of the train. We whizzed past a plethora of trees, past open valleys and past all free people. We left it all behind, undisturbed.

At first I was cautious of moving, not allowing myself to shift my body even a centimeter or two. For one, it seemed odd that the Capitol would trust the Tributes not to jump off of the moving train and make a break for it. Many times have I seen them in past Games try to kill themselves by jumping off of the Training Center, only to be thrown back by the force field. It's not that they care about their Tributes, but without us, there would be no Games. No person to symbolize their undying power through.

That's what I was being wary for: the force field that I was ninety-nine percent sure was there. Had I bumped into it, even the slightest bit, I would be thrown backwards with enough force to break several bones and gain a bad concussion. And, being on the narrow train, the power would definitely be strong enough to shoot me back and run into the force field on the other side, which would shoot me forward to the one I originally hit. Doesn't sound comfortable, does it?

But I was willing to risk that for just a few last minutes away from the Capitol's pleasures, away from my fated life. Even for just a moment, I could be part of the free people of whatever District we were traveling through. But, just as everything does, all things good must come to an end and I was left with my practical state of mind.

The sun rose steadily over the mountains in the backdrop of the Capitol. However, before there were tall skyscrapers and bridges stretched across the entire city. At night, I was sure all the lights from the buildings would be blinding and partying went on forever.

Yes, I had, indeed, spent the whole night on the roof of the train, staring out over the country and valley until the slightest bit of recognition struck and I realized we were soon approaching the Capitol. About fifteen minutes later, the view was much crisper; I decided slinking back into the train before the citizens could get a view of a Tribute would be wise.

I searched through the bureau and, much to my liking, found a pair of black corduroy's. I tossed on a silk, utilitarian-style black tank top with the same jacket from the previous night and divided my hair into two sections, twisting it into two buns on the lower side of my head.

The dinning space was vacant when I first entered. No food had been placed out and there was no sign that someone had come before me. I walked slowly towards the seat in which I had occupied the previous day; my mind was captivated by the artwork hanging on the walls. They were, no doubt, made by those being a citizen of the Capitol, for bright, effervescent colors were splattered every which-way across the canvas in a chaotic manner.

"I never did like those paintings in here," a voice said behind me. "In my humble opinion, they're far too bright and disorganized, not to mention they in no way match the décor."

Without turning around, I could recognize the voice of Lachlan Lyndon, standing only a few yards away from my sealed spot on the hardwood floor.

"I couldn't agree more," I responded. "You'd think they'd at least _try_ to find pieces by their own people that are easier on the eyes. Then again, the Capitol's sense of fashion and art has never been – er – well, usual."

He took his spot at the eight-seated table. "Did you sleep alright?"

"No," I answered flatly.

"At least you're honest," he scoffed.

I lingered in my walk to my spot at the table. "When Lisette said yesterday that we were alike," I began, "what did she mean by that?"

"Did you watch the Games when you were younger?"

"I had to," I explained, "but I don't remember them in depth."

"Figures," he mumbled. "Anyway, when I took part in 49th Hunger Games, I went the entire time without an ally."

"Really?"

He nodded. "I didn't think I needed them. I thought I was better off on my own."

"And how did that work out for you?"

"Well, I'm here today, aren't I?" He leaned back in his chair. "I admit, it wasn't always the easiest thing, but in the end I think it was the best."

"And why is that?" I pried.

He shrugged. "Becoming allies with somebody means gaining a certain trust from them. Because I kept to myself, I didn't have to kill anybody I didn't want to." He then continued, "And why do you not want any allies in the arena?"

"I have troubles trusting any one person one hundred percent."

"Fair enough," he decided.

The door to the chamber compartment burst open and Roxanne bustled in. Except for the large, diamond watch on her wrist, she was dressed completely in shades of lavender and lime green.

"Chop, chop!" she sang-song. "The waiters are a little behind in the food preparation, but we'll have to eat quick once it comes. We're scheduled to be in the Capitol in a little less than half an hour!"


End file.
